


Halfway There

by writingwannabe



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Busking, Coffee Shop, M/M, Musicians, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Theatre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-05 19:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16817278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingwannabe/pseuds/writingwannabe
Summary: Phil is a music teacher who only wants to inspire his students to be the best they can be. Dan is a coffee shop barista who busks on the streets in his spare time. Phil passes him on his way home from work every day, but one week when Dan is nowhere to be found, his absence affects Phil much more than it should. Why, and how, is this stranger having such an impact on Phil’s life, when Dan himself feels utterly worthless and alone?





	1. one

Dan Howell lies alone on the dirty floor of his tiny flat, hair matted against his forehead and everything hurting. He types out a tweet, then lets his phone slip out of his hands as he hits send; one final cry into the void. 

no one would notice if i just disappeared. 

An hour or so later, Phil, or Mr Lester as he’s officially called, finishes up band practice and gathers his things together, taking time to talk to a couple of students who have hung back to nervously talk through about auditioning for the school’s upcoming musical before leaving for home. 

He walks his usual route, shoulders sagging a little as he notices the lack of soulful piano chords and accompanying voice coming from its usual place tucked away behind the town square. Over the years of working as a music teacher, Phil has adjusted his way home to pass by one particular musician who busks on the streets. Today, much like the entirety of the last week, there is silence, or rather mundane chatter, where normally there is spine-chillingly good music. Something doesn't sit right with Phil, and just as he did for the other days this week, his journey home is spent with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. 

Phil decides that this can go on for no longer, and when he arrives at his quaint terraced home, he pulls up his twitter app and searches the key words ‘busker’ and the name of his town. After a few minutes of scrolling, Phil hits the jackpot, a video of the musician. He takes a moment to close his eyes and let the sounds wash over him before mentally shaking himself to remember the task in hand. The video is captioned ‘we might not have a football team, but we sure have talent’ and looking through the replies, there are a couple of complaints about the lack of football, which for context, is something of a running joke amongst the locals, but there’s one reply in particular which catches Phil’s attention: 

@danielsearcher: thank you for listening

Phil clicks onto the profile, enlarging the picture to see that he has hit the jackpot, and this is his musician. His bio states:

just a guy with a piano 

and makes Phil smile, because this musician, this Daniel Searcher is so much more than ‘just a guy with a piano’. But scrolling through his tweets makes Phil’s stomach clench. They’re all in a somewhat sombre tone, with the most recent one bringing bile up Phil’s throat. He bites his lip and makes a spur of the moment decision, glad to see Daniel’s direct messages open to anyone. 

Hey, I know we’ve never spoken before and maybe this is crazy but I walk past you on my way home after work every day and hearing your music never fails to brighten my day. I’ve noticed your absence this last week and guessed you were away for a while.   
I don’t know you, but whatever you’re going through, it will get better. That’s a promise. I’m always around to talk if you ever want to. - Phil

The rest of Phil’s evening progresses as normal, but the thoughts of ‘what if’ plague his mind, hoping that whatever the musician is going through isn't as severe as his mind is leading him to believe. Eventually he manages to fall asleep, still unsure why the stranger’s disappearance is affecting him so much. 

Not too far away, Dan Howell remains in the same position he’s been for far too long, his body stiff from the harsh floor and his mind even more painful. He’s desperate for the toilet, but barely even notices, instead reaching out for his phone to check the time. The clock reads 4:00 am, but it’s a twitter notification that catches his attention. He swipes across to open it and reads the contents, a miniscule flicker of a smile playing across his lips for the briefest of seconds. 

One person. One person has noticed him. The question now is whether one person is enough. 

For now at least, Dan tells himself, one person will do just fine.


	2. two

Phil wakes up the next morning with his phone pressed to his face, seemingly having grabbed it in his sleep. He checks the time, then practically leaps out of bed; it reads 8:17 am. He needs to be at school for 8:30, and it’s a fifteen minute walk, ten if he hurries. 

Toothbrush in his mouth, Phil hurriedly throws on his clothes, cursing himself for oversleeping. There’s no time for breakfast so he decides to stop at a little coffee shop on the way, desperate for his morning caffeine. Somewhat out of breath from his unexpected jog, Phil reels off his order then looks up at the barista, freezing in place as he recognises him. 

Phil’s favourite musician smiles half heartedly and asks for his name, his voice rough and gravelly, a severe contrast to the smooth singing which Phil likes a little too much. He feels starstruck, like he’s meeting a celebrity rather than some guy who busks on the street. Mentally shaking himself, Phil replies. 

“Phil… my name’s Phil.” He opens his mouth to continue speaking, to try and explain that he knows Daniel as a musician and is something of a fan. But the barista has already turned away to make Phil’s drink. Phil moves across to wait, his mind racing, trying to formulate something to say that could make this non-stranger like him. 

Soon enough, his drink is ready and Daniel calls out his name, meeting his eye for the briefest of moments. 

“Thanks,” Phil replies, and then before the barista has a chance to turn away again, “Random question, but are you the guy who plays at the back of the town square?” The other man’s eyebrows shoot up his head, and his face flushes pink. He bites his lip, 

“Yeah.” His head dips, and he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s me.” 

The coffee shop is fairly quiet now, with most people having already gone to work, and the others not out and about yet. Phil decides that because he’s already running late, it won’t hurt to delay leaving for a little while. 

“You’re really good.” Daniel dips his head to avoid eye contact, and it’s then that Phil notices the heavy dark smudges under his eyes, which are red and raw looking. His hair curls past his ears, unstyled and noticeably in need of a trim, but somehow still looking decent. More than decent, in Phil’s opinion. 

“Thanks,” The musician practically whispers the word, his voice croaky. 

“I actually sent you a message on twitter last night.” It’s Phil’s turn to blush. “I was kind of worried about you.” Daniel’s pink hue deepens into a crimson. 

“That was you?” He looks up, meeting Phil’s eye for the first time. 

“Yeah,” Phil presses his lips together into a small smile. “I didn't know you worked here.” He pauses. “I don't think I’ve actually come in before. It’s nice.” 

“Yeah, it’s alright I guess. Not really where I planned to be at this stage of my life, but the free coffee’s good.” Daniel bites his lip and clutches at his apron. “Um, did you see the message I sent you back? On twitter, I mean.” Phil shakes his head. 

“No, sorry. I overslept and literally ran out of the house as soon as I physically could.” 

“Oh, okay.” Daniel bites his lip, “Not to worry. Um, well, don't let me keep you; it sounds like you're in a hurry.” Phil frowns, not wanting to leave, but knowing he should. 

“Yeah, I should probably go.” Neither of the pair makes any effort to move. Phil inhales audibly. “This is weird, so tell me if I’m overstepping here, but… could I give you my number?” Phil’s face is now equally as red as the barista’s. Daniel smiles. 

“I’m not supposed to be on my phone whilst there are customers in, sorry.” Phil’s face drops. “But…” the musician scratches the back of his neck, “I could give you mine… If you want? There’s no rule about me going on someone else’s phone.” 

Phil awkwardly hands over his phone and Daniel types in his number, handing it back to Phil for him to see the contact: 

dan the coffee & music man ;)

“Thanks, Dan,” Dan fits him well, Phil thinks; he looks like more of a ‘Dan’ than a ‘Daniel’. It’s then he notices the time. “Shit, I’m really late. Talk to you later?” 

Dan nods, “Talk to you later, Phil.” They exchange a smile, and Phil leaves with a huge grin on his face and a dangerously fast heart beat. 

It’s only when he arrives at school, almost twenty minutes late, that Phil realises he left his coffee, something which would normally ruin his morning, but, today at least, only makes him smile and shake his head a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like this! i have lots of ideas for the future of this story and am excited to get writing :))


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil arrives at school after his encounter with Dan at the coffee shop, and has to try and switch into teacher mode, leading a lesson and helping out a concerned student, not quite able to push Dan out of his mind.

His students cease their chatter as Phil runs into the lesson several minutes late. He drops his things gently to the ground by his desk and settles into his chair, his cheeks warm and flushed, from something other than the running. 

“What do you look so smug about, Sir?” One of his students teases, tapping a pen against his desk and smirking. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Phil insists, his blush deepening. He raises his eyebrows, switching into teacher mode. “Right then, how are those compositions coming along?” He’s desperate for the lesson to get into full swing so he can pull up his twitter and read his message from Dan. 

“Are you expecting a call or something?” The same student, Isaac, quips, nodding towards Phil’s phone, “Only, if you stare at that any harder, it’ll set on fire or something.” 

“Come on, concentrate on your work please. How’s it going?” Phil slips on some over the ear headphones to listen to what he’s written; the computer program generates tinny sounds, but they don't mask the brilliance of this student. “This is good, Isaac. Really.” Phil takes off the headphones. “You’ve sorted the chords in the middle section and it does make a huge difference. Well done.” It’s Isaac’s turn to blush. He’s the kid who tends to be disruptive in most lessons, but he has something of a gift for music. “Have you had any more thoughts about the musical?” He dips his head, shrugging. 

“Nah, not really.” His voice is small, the confidence of just a few minutes ago seeming a million miles away. Phil takes a seat beside him, 

“Look here, I’m not going to make you audition for the school play, so you don't need to worry about that. I do however, think you would really enjoy it, and be very good at it! Of course it’s your decision though, and there’s still a week to go. Have a think, okay?” Phil hands him the headphones back and walks around to listen to the next students’ compositions, mind in his twitter DMs rather than the music. 

The lesson drags, for Phil, not the kids, but eventually, it’s over and he has a moment to himself as they pack up their things. 

hi phil. thanks for your message. it means the world to me that you like my music, so thanks for letting me know.   
things are pretty tough for me at the moment, tbh, but i’m trying.   
your message actually means more to me than you could imagine. might have to take you up on that talking sometime soon. thanks x 

Phil stares down at the message in disbelief. He’s still somewhat starstruck from meeting the guy earlier, but this is something else. He can't even begin to process it, however, as he senses a presence stood behind his shoulder. Turning, he sees Isaac stood there, shifting from side to side. 

Phil slips his phone into his pocket, turning to smile widely at the student.   
“Is something up?” He perches on the edge of his desk, trying to create an informal, approachable atmosphere for the student, who is clearly nervous. 

“Err, not really.” The boy transfers his weight from one foot to the other, biting his lip and examining his untied shoelaces. 

“Okay,” Phil tries a different tactic: “Is there something you wanted to talk about?” Isaac’s thought process is so intense that Phil can practically see the cogs whirring in his mind. The student mumbles a reply, but the word ‘musical’ is clear enough to understand. “The school play should be fun, Isaac! If it’s making you stressed, there’s really no need; you don't have to audition.” His head droops. 

“But I want to.” 

“Okay,” The teacher tells his student, somewhat unsure of how to solve this problem. “What is it exactly that you're worrying about?” It’s at that moment, the door at the back of the classroom opens, and Isaac’s attitude changes entirely. He lifts his head up and rearranges his features into a smirk, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Another student walks, or more accurately, struts, inside, scoffing at both the student and teacher. 

“Morning, Jack.” Phil greets the student, managing to keep the coldness from his voice. Jack is, at least as far as Phil can see, the reason why Isaac is labeled as disruptive. He encourages the rebellious side of him and, due to his status as one of the most popular kids at school, Isaac, and quite a few others, are powerless to do anything other than what is ‘cool’ when he’s around. 

The school musical is decidedly uncool in Jack’s opinion, and so, this is a unanimously agreed upon fact, hence Isaac’s reservations to audition. 

“Morning, Lester.” 

“Mr Lester, Jack. I don't make the rules I’m afraid, so you'll have to stick to them.” The boy, who a younger version of Phil would undoubtedly be intimidated by, is an almost comical caricature of young teenage rebellion. In the position he is now, Phil sees straight through this, as he’s seen it many times, both when he was at school, and in his years as a teacher, but he understands Isaac’s desire to fit in with the popular kids, so lets him take the lead in explaining the situation to Jack. 

“What are you doing here?” The question is directed towards Isaac, “You in trouble or something?”

“Pffth, yeah.” Isaac sends a ‘sorry’ look to Phil, who shrugs a little sadly in response. Jack shoots daggers at him upon hearing this. 

“Why’s that then?” 

“Oh,” Isaac jumps in, “he, he err… he wants me to audi-” Phil cuts him off. 

“Just some homework stuff, Jack. We’ll only be a couple of minutes longer.” Jack rolls his eyes dramatically, stepping in between Phil and his student. 

“Music homework’s hardly the end of the world. C’mon, Isaac.” Isaac bites his lip, clearly unsure how to behave. 

“Go on then, Isaac,” Phil spares him the decision. “We’ll sort this out soon, okay?” Jack rolls his eyes again. “Oh, and Jack? I heard you were on warning; ought to be on your best behaviour really.” Phil raises his eyebrows as the boy blushes, fumbling for a retort. “Off you go now, I’ve got work to do.” Isaac meets his eye, saying a silent thank you and then hurrying away with Jack. ‘On warning’, means that Jack has received too many behavioural complaints over the past half term, and so, his behaviour is being monitored and will be reviewed by either the head, or the deputy head teacher at the end of each week. 

Once the pair have left, Phil flops into his chair, a sigh escaping his lips. Any progress he begins to make with Isaac is always almost immediately cancelled out by Jack. Phil is generally seen as a ‘fun’ teacher, as he never wants his lessons to be anywhere near as uninspiring as his own were as a student. At the moment, with end of year exams coming up, there’s not an awful lot of his trademark ‘fun’ that can be injected into the work, as compositions need to be completed as well as past papers for practice. He has good rapport with his students though, and it seems to withstand the necessary dull nature of exam season. 

His mind quickly strays back to Dan, and more specifically, whether or not it would be a bit much to reply to his twitter message and send him a text. He decides to just send a text, and reply to the DM a bit later on. After all, he doesn’t want to look like he’s overthinking things, just wants to send a breezy text as though he hasn’t been composing it in his head since the number was being typed into his phone.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed the first chapter of ‘Halfway There’! stay tuned for the next one coming very soon :))


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